


L'Appel du Vide

by Dusty_Forgotten



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Flirting with death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5799613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>/lah-p<i>el</i>-doo-v<i>ee</i>d/ </p>
<p>French [noun] </p>
<p>1. "The call of the void" The desire to jump from detrimentally high places, despite no other suicidal inclination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	L'Appel du Vide

“Wow. What a view.”

Alira looks over her shoulder, then back to the expanse below her without any noticeable change in expression. Her tail flicks, and she crosses her legs, feet miles above ground. She’s far too comfortable there.

“Isn’t it?” she says, and it takes Marcurio a few too many moments to remember what they were talking about. He’s never seen the Rift like this- high enough to see where it becomes Eastmarch, and the Throat of the World. It almost makes the walk here worth it. Almost.

“We should get somewhere to stay before nightfall.”

The Khajiit points slightly to her left, past the pond. “There’s a cave just down that path with a few dry spots.”

“And a sabre cat infestation?”

“Don’t be silly.” She leans back on her hands, and smirks up to those white-out eyes. “It’s trolls.”

He sighs heavily.

“You can sit out, if you’re tired. I’m sure I can handle it myself.”

“I’d rather you not.” Marcurio blurts before he thinks to.

Alira chuckles lightly. “Worried, are you? Live a little.” She blinks, glances over the land, and then rises to step higher on more uneven rocks. One shifts under her foot, and Marcurio flinches out of instinct, too far to do anything- but she hops easily to another.

He bites his lip, and can do nothing but watch. “Your idea of living is flirting with death.”

“That’s life, isn’t it?”

Marcurio swallows.

She cocks her head towards rocks overhanging the world below. “Take a seat.”

His eyes flick to the rock, and back to her. “Oh, no.”

Smiling, she teases, “Scared of heights?”

“Partial to  _ not  _ dying.”

“Probably for the best. You have no sense of balance.” the Dragonborn jokes, shifting onto her toes, then kicking one foot out from under her.

“My balance his fine.” he shoots back.

“Prove it.”

A thin stripe of a brow goes up. A sweeping gesture to the flat rock, just wide enough for one. Wind whips his hair free from the tie and in his face. “View’s better from over here.”

He’s travelling with the Dragonborn; it’s a miracle he’s not dead already.

Marcurio moves slowly to the ledge, climbs up rather ungracefully, holding too tight to every edge. He swings his legs over, and scoots slowly forward until they’re comfortable. Alira watches on, touching her neck idly. “What?” he snorts.

She shrugs lightly, other arm crossing over her stomach. “Oh, I just had a funny little thought.”

“Should I be worried?”

She chuckled, lightly, but she’d laughed in bad circumstance before. “I was just thinking... I think this is where my father jumped.”

They fall into silence over the sunset, warm breeze splashing the pond. 


End file.
